


Insomnia

by Queen_haQ



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-05-27 20:38:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6299575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_haQ/pseuds/Queen_haQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're both drowning, but manage to find comfort in each other.</p><p>Excerpt:</p><p>"I don't think I can handle advice from you about my love life again."</p><p>"Wasn't advising, just asking."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

These days she couldn't sleep. Insomnia was never an issue before but that was, you know, _before_. Just like how the city never slept, neither did she. It was only a matter of time before her body rebelled against her and crashed, but for now, it seemed to cope with her new habit.

 

Every night she woke up at the same time - an hour or so after she went to bed - and stared out the window until the sun came up, or studied the ceiling. Every worry she had seemed to intensify in those hours, keeping her up, and sooner or later, her thoughts turned to Matt. Daredevil. One and the same.

 

_"I'm daredevil."_

 

_"I know."_

She remembered the stunned expression on Matt's face, the thick silence that had crept into the room after her response. A small part of her always suspected the truth but it was confirmed when Daredevil had rescued her and the other hostages from the building, when his hand had caressed her face in that gentle way. It was an intimate gesture, one she knew all too well. And in that moment everything clicked.

 

Unfortunately, his confession didn't bring any more clarity to their current situation. She still didn't know what to do about her feelings and he seemed to prefer avoidance over talking to her. It's not like she could turn to Foggy either, not if he didn't know the truth about his best friend. Or maybe he did know, but in the off-chance he didn't she didn't want to be the one to tell him. He deserved to hear the truth from Matt himself.

 

The sudden knock on the door brought her out of her reverie. She glanced at the clock; it was almost 3am. Instinctively, she reached for the handgun stored in the nightstand drawer and made her way to the door. She looked through the peephole to find Frank staring back at her in the hallway.

 

"Open up."

 

Not a request, but a command.

 

"Please."

 

She unlocked the door and pulled it open.

 

His face was covered in shadows, thanks to the dimly lit hallway and the baseball hat he wore. Despite that, she could see that his bruises had healed.

 

His gaze wavered down to the gun resting at her side.

 

"Greeting everyone with that thing these days?"

 

"Just dead clients."

 

There was a hint of a smile on his face but it disappeared so quickly she wondered if it was just a figment of her imagination.

 

"Can I come in?"

 

Right away she knew something was wrong. She stepped aside, studying him closely as he walked in. He was hurt, a blood-soaked hand peeking out from underneath his jacket. "Come with me. I have a first-aid kit in the bathroom."

 

Her new apartment was tiny, the bathroom barely big enough for one person let alone the two of them. In the tight constraints of the room she helped him take off his jacket. He winced barely loud enough for her to hear, and she chose not to acknowledge the gesture. Instead, she focused on cleaning the gash on his arm after he took a seat on the toilet.

 

"I wouldn't come here if I didn't have to," he said in a quiet voice.

 

"Tell me something I don't know." After tending to the wound, she gave him a quick lookover. "You need stitches."

 

"This'll do for now."

 

"You hungry?"

 

He peered up at her closely. "I could eat."

 

"I have some leftovers from a few days ago."

 

"Hope it's not rotten by now."

 

"No guarantees."

 

A few minutes later she sat across from him, watching as he wolfed down the food. At that moment he seemed completely normal, as if he was just like anybody else. And so was she. Two normal friends eating Chinese food who knew nothing about taking a human life.

 

"Can you stop eyeing me down?"

 

She stood up and walked to the counter, grabbing the fresh pot of coffee. She poured him a cup and handed it to him.

 

"Thanks."

 

She took her seat again.

 

"What's going on with you and the lawyer?"

 

"I don't think I can handle advice from you about my love life again."

 

"Wasn't advising, just asking."

 

"Either way, there's nothing new to tell. He and I... we're.... not talking."

 

"Why not?"

 

"I don't want to get into it now."

 

He took a sip of his coffee. "Fine. I'm sure it's a shitbag reason anyway."

 

"No one asked you, Frank," she snapped. Irritated, she grabbed his empty plate and dropped it in the sink. "You got what you came for. So why don't you get out of here?"

 

"I need a place to lay low. For a couple of hours, that's it."

 

As much as she wanted to kick him out, her conscience wouldn't let her. "Fine. You can crash on the couch."

 

*****

 

She was back in bed, wide awake, when he knocked on her bedroom door this time. "Yeah?"

 

"You left this in the bathroom," he said, holding her gun. He drew closer and placed it on the nightstand table. He paused for a few minutes, staring at the wall, hesitant, like he wanted to say something.

 

"I thought you would have left the city by now."

 

He finally turned to look at her. "I have unfinished business."

 

"Thought you took care of all that."

 

He watched her with an intensity that unnerved her, making her feel exposed and vulnerable. His gaze ripped through her exterior and saw into the heart of who she really was, and all that she'd locked away.

 

"I didn't come here because I was hurt."

 

"Then why did you?"

 

It was a long time before he spoke again. "Today would've been my daughter's birthday. Her tenth."

 

Her heart ached for him hearing the devastation and loss in his voice. "I'm sorry."

 

He sat down at the foot of her bed, staring off into space. "She'll never get to be a teenager, go to high school. Go through any of that first date, first prom, first kiss bullshit girls dig."

 

She shifted closer, sitting near him.

 

"I'll never get to scare the shit out of her dates."

 

Karen smiled through the tears streaking down her face. "She would've hated you for that."

 

"Yeah, probably." Frank turned towards her, peering at her.

 

"You look tired," she said, noting the bags under his eyes.

 

"I _am_ tired."

 

She didn't know what possessed her to do it, but she pushed him to lie back on the bed, settling down next to him. He didn't fight her and instead stared up at the ceiling like she always did. "What was she like?"

 

"Stubborn, happy, kinda nuts like me."

 

"I doubt that."

 

He chuckled.

 

The man who beat someone to death in front of her was not the one lying beside her now. She listened to his voice, usually so laden with anger but which was now full of love and admiration, even hope.

 

"What kind of a party do you think she would've wanted?" Realising that may be too hurtful, she turned to him. "Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

 

"I don't mind."

 

He inched closer, his breath humming against her skin as he spoke.

 

Soon, comforted by his proximity, she found herself drifting towards sleep.

 

*****

When she woke up later in the morning, he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thank you for the wonderful welcome into the fandom. I hope you guys have been reading and enjoying all the wonderful Frank/Karen works that have come out - I know I have :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy the sequel as much as I loved writing it. Thanks for all the words of encouragement :)

Frank turned up at her place again a month later, and a few more times after that. After the second night she stopped asking why and he stopped giving her excuses, and they fell into an odd routine. He'd eat, hop in the shower, and slip in next to her under the covers. They never had any physical contact, each sticking to their side of the bed, but for whatever reason those nights were the only ones she managed to get full sleep.

 

Tonight he was back, his first visit after a couple of weeks. She'd begun to wonder if he'd left the city when he knocked on her door at midnight that night. Relief had surged through her along with a strange thrill of excitement but she refused to dwell on what that meant. Instead, she teased him about showing at her doorstep on Christmas Eve without a gift and he promptly handed her a bottle of Coke with her name on it.

 

The floor creaked as he entered the bedroom and she moved closer to the edge of the bed to make room for him. Soon he was lying under the covers, his breathing in sync with hers.

 

"Thought you'd have a tree up," he murmured, his voice that unusual combination of soft and hoarse.

 

 "Didn't feel like putting one up this year."

 

"Why?"

 

"I don't know, Frank. I just didn't."

 

He turned his back to her. "I'm leaving the city. For good."

 

Her stomach twisted into knots. The thought of never seeing him again bothered her, a lot, even though she knew this day was coming. A part of her wondered why she'd grown so attached to him, but she didn't have an answer to that question.

 

"Did you hear me?" he prodded.

 

"I heard you." She shifted to her side, staring at his back. "Where will you go?"

 

"Don't know."

 

There was an odd note in his voice which aroused her suspicion. "I don't believe you."

 

"Think you know me well enough to know when I'm lying?"

 

"Maybe."

 

"Lady, you couldn't be more wrong."

 

"I don't think so."

 

There was a long pause before he spoke again. "It's better if you don't know where I'm heading. Safer for the both of us."

 

"You think I'd rat you out?"

 

"That's not what I meant."

 

Karen wondered if she should push him for an explanation, but there was a part of her that preferred not knowing. She wasn't ready for where his words would lead.

 

"Murdock isn't looking too good these days," Frank said.

 

"I'll let him know to spruce it up for you."

 

He chuckled.

 

"Where did you see him?" she probed.

 

"Here and there. Around."

 

She knew what that meant. During her last few conservations with Frank, she'd come to realise he knew the truth about Matt's alter ego.  It wasn't anything specific he'd said, but she had a gut feeling about it. And if the last few months had taught her anything, it was that she needed to trust her instincts. "Was he okay?"

 

"You're askin' _me_ if your boyfriend was alright?"

 

"He's not my boyfriend, Frank. You know that."

 

"Yeah. 'cause _he's_ the kinda guy that hurts people, right?"

 

His mocking tone set her temper on edge. "Why are you acting like an asshole?"

 

"Because that's who I am, sweetheart. I'm an asshole who kills people. Did you forget that already?"

 

"No, I haven't forgotten. I've seen you do it. More than once."

 

His voice was rough, filled with anger. "Then why the fuck do you keep letting me in?"

 

"Why do you keep showing up?" she countered. "And why are you trying to pick a fight with me?"

 

"Hey, I'm just settin' things straight. I'm no good for you."

 

"Maybe not, but you're the only one who doesn't want me to change."

 

"Not really. Think you'd look better as a redhead."

 

It was her turn to laugh.

 

"I'm serious. You should consider it."

 

"Shut up."

 

"Maybe the lawyer wants you to change to keep you safe. If you keep digging into things, you're bound to piss off the wrong people."

 

"Like when the whole world kept calling you a monster but I refused to buy into it? Should I have stopped digging then?" she snapped. "Why don't you just cut the crap and tell me what's really on your mind? You've never been one to play games. Don't start now."

 

When he refused to answer, she turned away from him to face the wall. She hated being lied to, hated being kept in the dark like she was some kind of an idiot. Matt had done it over and over again, Foggy too at times, and now Frank was starting to do the same.

 

Suddenly she heard him move, felt his warm breath against the back of her neck as he shifted closer.

 

"Sorry," he whispered. "Been a long time since I worried about someone. Forgot what it actually feels like."

 

Slow heat spread through her body at his unexpected closeness. She didn't know how to react, so she chose to focus on his words. "I can take care of myself, Frank."

 

"I know. You and that .380 can take the whole world down," he teased. "Watch out assholes, Karen's got a gun."

 

She smiled, but stiffened immediately when his leg brushed against her own. Instinctively she knew he hadn't meant to touch her, and that was quickly reaffirmed when he moved back to his corner.

 

The tension was palpable in the room. She contemplated feigning sleep to cease the awkwardness between them, but it occurred to her that would be taking the coward's way out. And she didn't want to be a coward.

 

Hesitant yet determined, she inched closer to him, and as her hand curved around his waist she could feel him grow rigid under her touch. A part of her wondered if he even wanted this growing closeness between them, maybe he would just push her away and take off, but he didn't. Slowly he began to relax, and she exhaled a sigh of relief quietly. She shut her eyes, and slowly began to drift off when his rough voice disrupted her sleep.

 

"Remind me why the lawyer isn't in the picture."

 

It's not like the question was new to her, she'd stayed up night after night asking herself the same thing until she'd finally realised the answer. However, telling that to Frank meant making herself more vulnerable and she wasn't ready for that.

 

"Please."

 

The magic word. The way his voice dipped low when he said that one word made it impossible for her to turn him away. "Because Matt wants a version of me that doesn't exist."

 

"What version is that?"

 

"The one who believes in only the black and white and doesn't see the grey. One who doesn't have her hands dirty."

 

Her breath caught in her throat when Frank covered her hand with his own. His skin was rough, dry, yet the physical contact knocked the wind out of her lungs.

 

"These hands?" he murmured, his voice seductive.

 

"Yeah," she said breathlessly.

 

"Then forget all that shit I told you in the diner. Because he's a fucking idiot."

 

Karen smiled.

 

The silence between them was comforting, and soon she founding herself giving into sleep.

 

*****

 

When she woke up the next morning, he wasn't there. She reassured herself he'd turn up again soon until his words from last night flashed through her mind. He was leaving. For good. She'd never see him again.

 

It hit her like a ton of bricks.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm someone who likes to amp up the tension and build up to smut, so if you're disappointed by the lack of sex, my apologies! Other than that, I hope you enjoyed this. I'd love to heard your thoughts if you have the time to share feedback.


	3. Chapter 3

A glass crashed on the floor, startling Karen. From her booth she took a quick scan of the room to see if anyone was watching her. There was only a handful of people in the hotel restaurant, and they all seemed preoccupied with their guests. She gave herself a mental shake. If she was going to be chasing corrupt politicians, she couldn't lose it every time there was a loud bang.

 

The last few weeks she'd been on edge more than usual thanks to the new District Attorney she was investigating. Karl Burbank, a pillar of ethics and morality, had been the perfect choice to replace Reyes or so it seemed at first. Assigned to write a piece on him, she was interviewing some of his previous coworkers when her instincts started screaming something was wrong. Lorna had been his assistant a few years ago and she'd given Karen all the right answers about what an amazing boss he was but the fear in the woman's eyes had been very real. That had spurred Karen on and she'd started looking into Burbank's activities. She must have been on the right track because her place was broken into a week ago, and threatening texts were being sent to her phone. They didn't reference Burbank but she knew it wasn't a co-incidence.

 

Once again Karen ran through the plan for her meeting with the new source tomorrow. This person had contacted her out of the blue, claiming to be an old college roommate of Burbank with important information, but she knew there was always that possibility it was a set-up to get her alone. Either way she would be taking precautions, just like she had since the break-in. Every night she was staying at a different hotel to ensure she wasn't being followed with only Ellison and Foggy aware of her movements.  

 

Suddenly the waitress set a bottle of beer in front of her.

 

"I didn't order this," Karen said.

 

"I know. _He_ did."

 

She followed the waitress's gaze to see a familiar figure stalking towards her. Her heart leapt up in her chest. _Frank_. He was no longer sporting a buzz cut, his hair a little longer, his face scruffy. He looked good. Not battered or bruised, just really, really good.

 

The last time she'd seen him was three months ago and the feel of his hands, the rough caress of his fingers on her skin was still etched into her brain. There had been nothing sexual about their night together but he had stirred something deep inside her. Of course that was nothing compared to the disappointment she felt the next morning when he'd left, for good, just like he said he would. There had been no lies between them, no promises made, yet a part of her was hurt and angry even though she had no right to be Now, he was back.

 

He slid into the booth, in front of her, and it felt like the room was closing in on her. Somehow he always set her heart racing, at times with fear, with panic, but this feeling rushing through her blood was neither of those.  

 

“Anything else I can get you?” the waitress asked.

 

Frank cast a quick glance at the brunette. “Maybe later. Thanks.”

 

Once the waitress left there was only silence between them, the air thick with unspoken words. There were so many things she wanted to say to him.

 

_“How are you?”_

_“Are you okay?”_

_“I miss you.”_

_"Stay with me."_

Instead she remained silent, her eyes locked with his as he picked up his beer and drank from it.

 

“Want a drink?”

 

“I have a drink,” she said, tapping her glass of gin and tonic.

 

“Have another one then."

 

“That’s all you have to say to me?”

 

“What do you wanna hear?"

 

“You could start with ‘hi’.”

 

 “Hi.”

 

“I’m glad you’re not dead.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“The cops still think you are though.”

 

“Good."

 

“I still worry about you being recognized.”

 

“Hasn’t been much of a problem since…” He ran his fingers along his scruffy chin.

 

“You do look different with a goatee.”

 

A slow smirk played along his lips, making her stomach flutter. _Stop it_. This was ridiculous. The last time she’d felt something similar was with Matt, and look how that had turned out. And Frank was… something else entirely. “How did you know where I was?”

 

“Red.”

 

That surprised her. “I didn’t realize he knew my whereabouts.”

 

“He likes to keep an eye on you.”

 

Irritation surged through her at the idea of Matt and Frank discussing her, like she was a child who needed to be looked after. “Is that why you’re back? To babysit me?”

 

“You’re not a goddamn kid.” His voice was raspy, brimming with annoyance. “You don’t need anyone to look after you. I’m just here to help you. Like you've helped me.” He put down his beer, peering at her intently. “You got a problem with that?”

 

 “So you’re not here to convince me to stop?”

 

“No. You gotta do what you gotta  do.”

 

“Matt thinks I should just stick to writing fluff pieces that don't piss anyone off."

 

"He doesn't get you at all, does he?" He shook his head. "We all have our own ways to fight this shitbag world. You uncover assholes, I kill them."

 

Well, he was never one to beat around the bush. "Do you think we'll ever stop?"

 

He paused, playing with the label on his beer. At long last, he finished off his drink. "No. It's in our blood." He must have signalled the waitress because she returned with two drinks and set the bottles in front of them.

 

"Trying to get me drunk, Frank?"

 

"Two drinks is all it takes?" He leaned back, resting his arm along the back of the booth. "That's pathetic."

 

She chuckled. For the first time in weeks she felt comfortable again, like she could relax, breathe. With him back, her peace of mind also returned - which was crazy considering he was a vortex of chaos. Yet something about him made her feel at ease, like it was okay to be herself around him because he wouldn't judge her.

 

"You hanging in there?"

 

She bit the inside of her cheek, shrugged her shoulders. "Trying to. It was going okay until someone broke into my place."

 

"I heard."

 

"They were trying to scare me."

 

"Did it work?"

 

She lifted her eyes to his. "Yeah, and it makes me want to fight harder."

 

Pride, or maybe panic flashed in his eyes as he leaned in closer. "You sure you're ready for this?"

 

She glanced down at the table. Fear had become so natural in her life she almost couldn't remember what it was like to not be afraid, but this feeling of dread also propelled her to fight in ways she never would've before. Her resolve strengthened, she met his gaze again. "I am." She licked her lips. "Completely."

 

There was a sudden shift in the air between them. His eyes darkened as his focus settled on her lips. She felt that pull again, the deep yearning to reach out to him, to touch him, to run her fingers through his hair.

 

"Can I tell you something?" she asked.

 

"Yeah." His voice was hoarse, almost breathless.

 

"I don't have a lot of people in my life and you... you're important to me."

 

 He watched her in silence.

 

"And I don't want to do anything that'll mess things up between us."

 

Mistaking her words, he started pulling away. Immediately she reached out, grasping his hand. The heat of his touch made her senses explode, and every nerve in her was now taut.

 

"I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, or next week. Everything in my life is... out of control. I could die, so could you. But tonight, I just... I want to be someone normal, someone who doesn't have to deal with anything like that. Is that crazy?"

 

"Probably." His thumb started caressing her skin, running along her palm in slow, deliberate circles that made her body tingle with excitement.

 

"Be normal with me tonight?"

 

A slow, languid smile lingered on his lips. "I'm the farthest thing from normal. So you're gonna have to teach me."

 

"Let's pretend like we're at a singles bar and you just bought me a drink. Give me your cheesiest line."

 

"You must be tired, sweetheart, 'cause you've been running through my mind all night long," he replied right away.

 

She started laughing. "Wow. That's your line, huh?"

 

"No, that's Shane's pick-up line."

 

"Oh, is that who you are now?"

 

"Yup. Normal, stockbroker, douchebag Shane."

 

"Well, _Shane_ , I'm Jessica."

 

"That's a sexy name."

 

"I'm a sexy girl."

 

"Yeah, you are."

 

She laughed. "Aren't you going to ask Jessica what she does?"

 

"Shane doesn't give a fuck."

 

"He just wants to get laid, huh? I think Jessica wants the same thing."

 

Frank's eyes darkened. He was watching her intently, inhaling her in.

 

She was heady with excitement and feeling reckless and bold. "Jessica has a room at this hotel. Want to come up and fuck her brains out?"

 

There was a long pause, his eyes piercing into her the entire time. "Is that what she wants?"

 

Her heart pounded in her chest. "Yeah."

 

"Lead the way then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there will probably be one more chapter after this. Let's see. Regardless, I just wanted to thank everyone for their support. Thank you for taking the time to read and for leaving me your wonderful comments. I love being part of a new fandom when everyone's excited and full of hope. That'll probably die down soon... but for now, I plan to enjoy every minute of it.


	4. Chapter 4

As they rode up the elevator to her floor, Karen could feel Frank's gaze boring into her back. Earlier  she'd felt wild and reckless; now, the reality of what they were about to do was staring her in the face  - well, technically her back - and it was both terrifying and exhilarating as hell. The elevator came to a stop. For a moment, she contemplated turning around and telling him she changed her mind -  but that would be a lie. The truth was she wanted him, and, tonight, she didn't give a damn about the consequences.

 

She walked down the hallway, towards her room, Frank looming behind her every step of the way. She had yet to look at him, a part of her afraid of what she'd find there. Pulling the keycard out of her purse, she slid it into the electronic lock. A red signal flashed. Flustered, she tried again, slower this time. The door remained closed. What the hell? Christ, what was wrong with her?

                                                                                          

Suddenly his hand was brushing against hers, taking the card out of her trembling fingers. He swiped the card, twice as fast as her, and a green light flashed. Of course.

 

"Thanks," she muttered.

 

"No problem," he said, pushing the door open for her.

 

Her nerves were heightened with awareness from his close proximity. Needing something to take off the edge, she headed for the minibar and pulled out a tiny bottle of vodka.

 

"We don't have to do this."

 

The raspy growl of his voice had a tendency to make her ache in ways she hadn't experienced in a long time, and it wasn't just a physical response. She missed those quiet moments with him, the nights when she'd fall asleep listening to him talk about his combat days, or his children, sometimes even his wife. But tonight wasn't about intimacy, she reminded herself. "Shane having second thoughts?"

 

"Is Jessica?"

 

"No, not at all," she replied with a confidence that reflected none of her inner turmoil.

 

She took a swig off the bottle, placed it on the table, and then removed her jacket, throwing it on the chair. All throughout, she could feel his eyes fixated on her, watching her. She finally met his gaze, and the maddening swirl of lust in his eyes fuelled the need that rippled through her. Heat pooled low in her belly when he started approaching her. Everything about him - his body, his anger and despair, his passions, his loves - was entirely too intense and she found herself moving back. Her fingers gripped the edge of the circular table as he came to a stop in front of her, achingly close but not close enough.

 

"What does Jessica like?" he murmured.

 

"What every woman likes."

 

A shadow of a smile flirted across his lips. "And what's that?"

 

"A man who can make her come."

 

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks as soon as the words slipped out. Oh yeah, liquid courage was definitely at play. Her breath caught in her throat when his hands came to rest on her hips, idly teasing her through the fabric of her skirt. Every graze of his fingers left a heated trail on her skin, like he was branding her.

 

"There are many ways to accomplish that, sweetheart."

 

He leaned in, as if to kiss her, but then stopped, his lips fraction of an inch away. Frustration knotted in her stomach.

 

"Be more specific."

 

"What do you want, a goddamn picture?" she snapped.

 

"I want to hear you say it."

 

"Fine." She looked him directly in the eye. "I want you to go down on me. I want you to fuck me. I want to suck-"

 

His mouth closed over hers, gruff, imposing, tongue scraping against her teeth as he demanded she respond. Snapping out of her daze, she deepened the kiss, her hands hastily pulling at his hair, his clothes, doing everything possible to make contact with his naked skin.

 

He felt so good, so solid, so _hard_ under her touch, and it was comforting, and frightening and-

 

"Take off your fucking skirt," he ordered, his voice breathless as he dragged his lips to her ear. "Now."

 

"You do it," she fired back.

 

His tongue followed the curve of her ear, hitting an oh-so-sensitive spot she didn't even know she had. Her knees almost buckled but he held on, tight, his hips grinding against her. Her hands curled into his back when he bit her earlobe, hard enough that it startled her but not so much that it hurt.

 

"Do it now or I'll rip it off."

 

Her heart was pounding in her chest, her body frantic with desire as she locked eyes with him. She undid the zipper on the back of her skirt, taking her time, watching as a world of emotions flickered across his face while she shimmied the skirt down her hips.

 

"You're a goddamn tease."

 

She smiled at him, a slow, predatory smile. Right now she felt powerful, in control-

 

He picked her up like she weighed nothing, dropped her gently on the bed. His hands forced her legs open, and she felt entirely too exposed and vulnerable in front of him as his eyes settled on her too sensible cotton panties. Tonight was supposed to be a haze, she wanted to drown in him and not worry about the consequences, but he was watching her intently, studying her too thoroughly, and it was beginning to fuck with her buzz . "Stop looking at me like that."

 

"I'll look at you as _much_ as I want, any _way_ that I want."

 

"Shane really is a douchebag, isn't he?"

 

He smiled.

 

After what felt like an eternity under his gaze, he finally tugged at her panties, slipping them down her thighs, knees, until they lay against her ankles. She started taking off her heels but he stopped her.

 

"Don't. Keep them on."

 

She wondered if that was Shane talking or Frank.

 

After throwing her panties aside, he knelt down before her while his hands began to caress up the length of her legs, curving around her calves, his fingers stroking over her in slow and languid gestures as he made his way up. His lips grazed her inner thighs, tongue flickering across her skin, teeth nipping at her gently, all the while his scruff scratching her repeatedly, the friction burning her, and fuck, she liked it. She liked it a lot, writhing against him as he drew closer to her pussy.

 

He'd called her the tease but he was the one living up to that name, taunting her, baiting her, leaving her soaking wet until she was finally ready to scream with frustration, and then he flicked his tongue over her, kissing the hot core of her, and her mind went blank.

 

_Oh, Christ._

 

He licked her, tasted her, his mouth warm against her cunt, his tongue driving her wild. Pleasure coursed through every part of her as he slowly increased the rhythm. She fisted the sheets as the pressure started to build in her stomach, elevating her to the highest peaks, and then everything seemed to intensify exponentially as he focused on her clit.

 

She moaned loudly, grabbing his hair while he sucked on the nub, expertly working her.

 

Time seemed to stand still one second, and flash by in a dizzying whirl the next.

 

Her body was a complex bundle of nerves and he knew how to stimulate each and every part of her. And then, her world exploded, lifting her up to the highest of crescendo before dropping her into an abyss of ecstasy.  Her orgasm came in waves, and she was submerged in it, enjoying every burst.

 

When the world stopped spinning and she finally drifted back to reality, his head was face-down on her stomach. This was a strange moment, with her half-dressed and him fully, and she smiled to herself, reaching down to lace her fingers through his hair . "Thanks," she murmured, stroking him.

 

He chuckled into her skin, wiping his face on her before looking up. The amused twinkle in his eyes disappeared, replaced with a glint of something that set her heart racing. "Turn around," he ordered.

 

"What?"

 

"You heard me."

 

He shifted off her body.

 

Feeling awkward, she did as ordered. Her senses tingled with uncertainty as she lay on her stomach in front of him. The air felt good on her bare ass, cooling her down which she desperately needed, but then his lips started trailing down the length of her spine and heat rushed through her again. His tongue ran along the small of her back while his hand delved under her hips, arching her up towards him.

 

She'd never done this before, had never even thought about it. Despite her hesitations, her body came alive under him once again.

 

"Relax," he ordered.

 

_Easier said than done._

 

He tapped her cheeks with his palm, playing with her, biting her, spreading her open with his fingers. His warm breaths on that extremely sensitive part of her was one of the most erotic things she'd experienced and soon she was lost in a haze, screaming his name - Frank - over and over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for the support. I hope you have the time to leave me your thoughts. I'm eager to read them.  
> FYI - If you didn't get the warm and fuzzies from this chapter, I accomplished what I set out to do. I wanted there to be an emotional coldness between them (if that makes sense?).


	5. Chapter 5

As Karen stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling of the hotel room, she dragged the blanket closer and threw it over her lower body. This wasn't like her at all - at least, not anymore. College had been different. She'd slept with a few guys over the years, like anybody else, but after the _accident_ her sex life had taken a back seat. Matt was the only one she'd been interested in the last few years, and now... well, now there was Frank.

 

Frank, who she'd propositioned and convinced to come up to her room tonight.

 

Who had gone down on her over and over again, because she'd begged him to.

 

Who had abruptly taken off after a quick trip to the bathroom.

 

She forced herself off the bed. Spotting her underwear and skirt on the floor from when he'd removed it earlier, Frank's face flashed through her brain. Her body grew hot again at the thought of his hands and mouth on her - then she remembered how he left.

 

_Shit_.

 

Why? Why had she tried to seduce him? How could she be so stupid? As messed up as it was, he was one of the few people still remaining in her life and her thoughtless actions had just driven him away.

 

Angry at herself, she started getting dressed in t-shirt and pyjamas when the knock on the door caught her attention. With hesitant steps she approached the sound and looked through the peep-hole. It was Frank. Heart pounding in her chest, she answered the door and stepped aside to let him in. He marched past her and took a seat on the bed. For a long time he didn't say anything, his gaze on the floor. The atmosphere was strained, thick with tension, as she waited for him to speak - but he seemed to be caught up in his own thoughts.

 

"I'm sorry for taking off like that," he said after a while.

 

"It's okay."

 

"I haven't... "

 

His eyes locked with hers. The guilt pooled in them made her chest tighten with anguish, and she realised what he was trying to say. No wonder he was so conflicted.

 

"There's been no one since Maria."

 

"God, Frank." She ran her fingers through her fair, feeling even more foolish than before. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have pushed-"

 

"Hey, look. You've got nothing to be sorry about. I came up with here 'cause I wanted it, but it doesn't feel-"

 

"-right."

 

He nodded his head in agreement. "Like I'm messing around on her or something."

 

"Yeah, I get it." Shifting her weight from one foot to another, she crossed her arms. "I mean, I've never felt that strongly about someone-"

 

"Not even Red?"

 

"No, not really. Never went that far." Tense, she rubbed her arms. "It's late, and I have to meet that source tomorrow. So, I guess I'll see you around."

 

His eyes crinkled with amusement. "Trying to kick me out?"

 

Surprised by the shift in his mood, she shrugged her shoulders. "I thought that's what you wanted."

 

 "No, I don't want to leave."

 

The certainty in his voice made her stomach flutter, but she reminded herself not to give into that strange exhilaration. Whatever the hell was going on between them, it couldn't be anything more. And, really, it shouldn't be. They were both too fucked up for anything like that.

 

"Can I stay here?" he asked.

 

"Of course."

 

"That quick, huh?" He tipped his head to the right, gave her an affectionate smile. "You should be smart. Tell me to get the hell out of here."

 

"Imply that I'm dumb again and I'll kick you out myself."

 

He chuckled. "Sorry."

 

She returned his smile, relieved. At least things could go back to normal between them. Her  phone, sitting on the nightstand table next to the bed, started vibrating. She walked over to retrieve it, brushing past Frank.

 

_Karen Page: soon-to-be dead reporter._

A cold shiver ran through her spine at reading the message. The texts were usually short, and frankly stupid, but the more they continued the more fearful she became.

 

"What is it?" Frank asked.

 

"Nothing important."

 

"Don't do that." He plucked the phone from her hand and read the text. "You need to get rid of this phone."

 

"What's the point? They'll just get a hold of my new number again."

 

"Don't make it so easy for the shitheads. Use disposable cells."

 

"And what if one of my sources need to get a hold of me? What then?"

 

His brow furrowed with frustration. "It's not your damn sources that I worry about."

 

"Look, I appreciate your concern-"

 

"But you're not going to stop. I know. You gotta do what you gotta do."

 

His jaw flexed even as resignation set in his face, and she found herself reaching out to cradle his face in her hand. "You're the one who told me that we can't stop, remember? It's in our blood to keep fighting."

 

"What the hell do I know? I'm a chump."

 

She sent him an endearing smile. "You're a lot of things, Frank, but chump isn't one of them."

 

Still seated at the edge of the bed, he stared up at her with a piercing gaze that filled her with heat, and longing. Remembering his words about Maria, she began to withdraw when he covered her hand with his own, holding her firmly in place, their gazes locked. When he rested his cheek on her chest, arms securing her in a protective embrace, her heart started beating so fast she worried it would jump out of her body. Her fingers thread through his hair, softly, gently.

 

"We should get some shut-eye," he said in a muffled voice.

 

"Yeah."

 

He didn't release her, instead maneuvering her onto the bed in one quick fluid motion.

 

He may not have been ready for sex but she sensed his desperate need for some kind of connection. The same deep yearning reciprocated within her as his hand snaked around her, pulling her close as he spooned her from behind. It was a strange sensation to feel completely at home in his arms, like this was where she belonged.

 

"After this dies down, you should take off for a while. Go see the parents or something," he rasped.

 

Her stomach clenched at the thought of them. "I can't do that."

 

"They not around?"

 

She hesitated. "I... We're not on good terms."

 

"Why not?"

 

"Just the usual."

 

"In other words, keep my nose out of your business."

 

"You said it."

 

She shifted a little to make herself more comfortable.

 

"Keep wiggling like that and I'm going to embarrass myself like a fucking teenager right here."

 

Feeling his erection against her back, she paused. "Sorry."

 

"You can tell me to get out of here, you know."

 

"I know, but..." She took a deep breath. "I feel safe with you."

 

"You know how fucked up that is?"

 

"Yes."

 

His hand caressed her stomach over the fabric of her t-shirt, and once again, that mad, intense sensation swept over her. It was overwhelming, every part of her wanted to just give into it, but she knew they'd both regret it. In an effort to make him stop, she placed her hand over his, and he did just that.

 

"This was a really shitty date, wasn't it?" he murmured into her hair.

 

"I've had worse. Besides, tonight wasn't a date. You crashed my pity party and I invited you up to distract me."

 

He chuckled. "Don't sugar coat it or anything, sweetheart."

 

"Sorry, just being honest."

 

"So what about those bad dates? What were they like?"

 

"Horrible."

 

"You always been into preppy lawyer types?"

 

"I don't have a type."

 

"Everyone's got a type."

 

"Not me."

 

"Says the chick who's got two vigilantes chasing after her."

 

"I miss the days when you called me ma'am," she signed heavily. A smile curved across her lips when he exhaled a raw, throaty laugh. "So, you tell me. Before Maria, what was your type? What kind of bad dates did you have?"

 

He stiffened immediately. "You do that a lot."

 

"What?"

 

"Flip it around so we're only talking about me, never you."

 

She turned around to confront him. "That's not true."

 

"Every goddamn time. I ask you something. You give me some bullshit answer, and then we're back to yakking about me."

 

"You're exaggerating," she bit out, feeling defensive. The fact was, he was right. It _was_ something she did, and not just with him. Over the years she'd used that approach to avoid answering questions about herself, and it wasn't particularly difficult as people were more than willing to discuss themselves. Unfortunately, Frank seemed to have caught on.

 

"You'll take on the big guys, fight for all those who can't. You put your life on the line for me, you trusted me even though I was all kinds of fucked up, and I don't know why. I'm an open book to you." He tapped her head gently. "But I've got no idea what goes on in there."

 

She laid her head down in the crook of his shoulder, closed her eyes. . "We all have our demons, Frank. I'm just not ready to share mine yet." She'd made mistakes, terrible, horrifying mistakes, and there were nights she couldn't sleep because of it, and even though nothing would absolve her of them she had to find a way to make amends.

 

He grazed his lips against her forehead while his fingers ran through her hair in a gentle motion. "Alright."

 

There was only acceptance in his voice, no judgement, and it was like a salve on all those hurts that kept her awake at nights. She hugged him tight, and let herself relax in his arms.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Karen watched Khadija Johnston through hooded lids, trying to wrap her brain around the horrific story Khadija had just shared. Karen had assumed her anonymous source was a man but realised the other woman had used a voice changer over the phone when they'd conversed. A few minutes earlier when Khadija took the seat across from her in the diner, Karen had been a little surprised. Khadija was in her forties, hair in cornrows, her brown skin smooth and supple. She made a striking figure in a maroon dress, projecting a confident demeanor. After a brief introduction of interrogating each other, Khadija had finally revealed why she'd reached out to Karen. Karl Burbank, the new district attorney, had violently assaulted Khadija in high school.

 

"You think I'm lying."

 

Karen shook her head. "No, no, I don't." Her brother's face flashed through her mind but she brushed the image aside, forcing herself to concentrate on Khadija. "I believe you. I'm just trying to process it."

 

"I was in shock at first, and then I just wanted to forget it ever happened. I didn't want to tell anybody what Karl had done to me." Khadija's voice quivered, but she quickly pulled herself together. "Everyone thought Karl was the greatest guy ever. So did I. He was always friendly to everyone, and I couldn't believe it when he asked me out. I mean, here was this hot football player interested in me. I wasn't exactly his type, you know."

 

Karen didn't respond, unsure of what to say.

 

"After he hurt me, I... I avoided him as much as I could. I didn't go to class, I just locked myself up in my room."

 

"Did you ever consider going to the cops?" Karen asked.

 

Anger seeped from Khadija's face. "You think the cops would've believed me over the local football hero? The _white_ guy?"

 

Karen felt ashamed; her position of privilege had clearly blinded her to the daily reality of Khadija's life.

 

"I turn on the news, I see his face on my screen now and it makes me so sick."

 

Karen may not have shared Khadija's horrific experience but she knew what it felt like to be haunted by the past. "You said you didn't want me to write about this yet. Have you changed your mind?"

 

"No, I haven't. Not yet. I just..." Khadija pursed her lips. "I'm not the only one he's hurt. A monster like him has a history, I _know_ it. Maybe you can look for the other women, maybe you can convince them to tell their story." Silence filled the air as she played with the sugar packets sitting on the table. "I need time to tell my husband, to prepare my kids."

 

"There _is_ a chance that, even if I find other victims, they might not want to come forward."

 

"It'll be my word against his then," Khadija replied, deflated.

 

Realising Khadija needed her support more than cautionary warnings, Karen leaned forward. "We'll cross that bridge if we get to it. Until then, I'm going to do whatever it takes to help you."

 

"I still don't know what's in it for you."

 

After everything Khadija went through it was only natural she was suspicious, Karen reminded herself.  "I want the truth to come out. You deserve justice, and he needs to be punished for what he did to you."

 

"Do you think that'll happen?"

 

A part of Karen wanted to reply 'yes' but she owed Khadija the truth, not false hope. "I don't know, but we have to try."

 

"Even if it means putting myself and my family under a shitstorm?"

 

Karen shifted back in her chair. "I don't know what to tell you. It isn't going to be easy, for you or your family."

 

"At least you're honest."

 

They spoke for a few more minutes with Karen gathering some more information about that night. After Khadija left, Frank returned immediately. He'd staked out the place earlier but had taken off before her source arrived so as not to spook them. Karen sensed his close proximity the entire time and in a strange way she'd felt safe knowing he was around.

 

"You alright?"

 

Her mind still reeling, Karen nodded her head. "Yeah, I'm fine." All she could think about was Kevin, the sweet, wonderful person he was before the attack. She'd always been close to her younger brother growing up, and their bond had strengthened even more when he decided to attend the same college as her.

 

There were many a night she had lain awake, wondering if things would be different now if Kevin had enrolled somewhere else. Maybe he'd still be alive if she'd never encouraged him to go to Lavalle with her.

 

She was pulled out of her thoughts suddenly when Frank tapped her hand.

 

"What's wrong?" he asked.

 

She started collecting her things. "We should head back to the hotel. I need to start looking into this right away."

 

"Wanna tell me what the hell's going on?"

 

Hearing the irritation in his voice, she realised she owed him an explanation. "Karl attacked my source in high school."

 

"Attacked?"

 

Karen locked eyes with him. "Raped."

 

He stared back at her in silence.

 

*****

 

The radio was tuned to a top 40 station, playing the latest, and hideous, Justin Bieber song. Karen switched to the news channel to check for any breaking stories but things appeared to be calm in Hell's Kitchen - a strange occurrence in itself - and she flipped back to the music station.

 

"You've got your heart set on this Bieber kid?"

 

Karen threw Frank a puzzled glance. "What?"

 

"You keep changing back to this goddamn awful sound."

 

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realise."

 

"Yeah, no shit."

 

Frank pulled the car over to the side of the road  and came to a stop. Turning off the engine, he threw his arm along the back of her seat. "I can see the wheels spinning in your head."

 

"Of course you can," she replied, trying to hide her irritation. "I told you what Karl Burbank did. I have to figure out a way to help Khadija."

 

"No, that's not all it is. There's something more you're not telling me."

 

Annoyance turned to full-fledged anger as she leveled Frank with a cold look. "You do remember someone's been sending me threats? Maybe sitting out here in the dark isn't the smartest move right now."

 

He stared at her for a long while, his dark eyes probing into her in a way that made her feel utterly naked and exposed. The heat rose in her cheeks - from anger or something else, she wasn't sure - and she looked away swiftly.

 

"I get that you need to hold on to whatever you're hiding, but maybe that's the wrong move. Keeping all that shit to yourself will only make it worse."

 

"You really want to shrink me right now, Frank?"

 

"Karen?"

 

The way he said her name always made her heart jump up in her chest, but it was the raw desperation in his voice which broke through her facade.

 

"Were you raped?"

 

She wasn't surprised by the question. Considering her behaviour after the meeting with Khadija, it made sense why he'd jumped to that conclusion.

 

"I know it's not my place, you told me to mind my own goddamn business." He reached for her hand, his touch hesitant and gentle as he comforted her. "But if someone hurt you, if anyone fucking did that to you, you can tell me. You can talk to me about it."

 

Tears stung the back of her eyes, finally breaking the calm she was trying so desperate to cling to. "No, I wasn't raped." She closed her eyes. "My brother was. Because of me."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. If you have the time, I'd love to hear your thoughts (feedback is fuel for writers)! :)

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, I can't believe how much I LOVED Karen/Frank, which led to this fic. It's my first fic in the fandom so the voices may not be quite right. Also, I'm not sure how old Frank's daughter would be but I thought ten would work nicely. 
> 
> Anyway, thoughts?


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